Timothee X You - Blog Posts
My Valentine, Timothee Chalamet <3
Promise pt. 3
PAUL ATREIDES X READER
You were to remain on Arrakis to aid in destroying the Atreides family: a Bene Gesserit trained assassin working for the Harkonnen House. It shouldn't have been hard to kill The Duke Leto's son with your Crysknife, however, love can be messier than blood.
You were unsure when it hit you as to what Paul was truly trying to accomplish. Was it when you were ready to draw your blade or when he looked you dead in the eyes with that godforsaken beautiful expression on his face? It was just unfair how he was able to halt your motions by looking at you; his grey-blue pupils looking brighter than the Arrakian sun as the moons shone down from above. It would've been an easy kill, really. But something told you that your plan wasn't going to work out.
In hesitation, you removed your hand from the hilt of your knife and allowed yourself to be lost in his gaze. Suddenly, he placed his lips on yours. You had heard of kissing before, but only in the books on the old worlds that the Harkonnens had within their library. Never thinking to experience it, you hadn't prepared yourself to combat it. In a way, it was more difficult than going over battle strategies or studying the history of The Imperium.
But to your surprise....you enjoyed kissing Paul.
He slowly moved himself away from you, looking into your eyes to try and get a glimpse of an emotion from you; any emotion at all would suffice. He felt warm as he enveloped himself into the embrace that was your kiss; thinking over and over his actions and pondering the potential consequences of them. Your eyes glimmered with something that he was unable to make out in the dark but he knew it was a ferocity equivalent to anger. But then, everything changed. Your face had softened and your eyes grew slightly wet. To say he was astonished by the fact that you could have any other emotion than coldness was an understatement. But he did know that he wanted to capture that look into his memory for as long as he lived.
And then- the impossible happened. You smiled.
"Paul..." Before you could get another word out, his lips were upon yours again, this time more feverishly. Your fingers intertwined in his hair as you forgot completely about the mission you were forced to pursue. The only thing your mind was capable of thinking was the boy in front of you.
Pulling away once more, he rested his head to yours. There was a softness that had entered the room now that all formalities had come to an end; the sound of heavy breathing was the only thing to be heard as you allowed the gap between the two of you to proceed once more.
"I've thought about doing that for a while now. I didn't think I would ever be granted the chance." He smiled.
"Paul." You said.
"Hm?"
"You just made my job a lot easier."
Suddenly a large boom could be heard from the outside. Before he had time to ask you what you meant, a brilliant orange light filled the window above and covered the dark night littered with stars. Something was burning.
He jumped up from where he was laying and immediately ran to the hallway, in hopes of glancing at some of the guards who would tell him what was going on. For the second time that night Paul was astonished. There were no guards anywhere in the vicinity. In fact, everything seemed dead besides from the war that raged outside.
You exited the room right after Paul. Heading for the stairs, you ran to make your way outside. This was it. Vladimir must've finally engaged in his plans. The coolness of the slab floor beneath your feet and the crisp air of the hallway was oddly enough like a slap in the face; a universal gesture saying, "This is it. Run for it."
Taking in harsh breaths as he watched your descent, Paul pushed back his hair and beelined towards his room. Throwing open the door in his haste, he quickly threw on a pair of training clothes and started to search for his shield. Once he found it, he would be able to slip it on and use it to withhold enemy attacks. Hopefully, they weren't familiar with technology from Caladan, whomever these attackers were. He quickly remembered the Hunter-Seeker from earlier. That wasn't a typical gadget known to Arrakis. Yet they had known.
Throwing a cape over his shoulders, he made his way to the commotion.
⌛⌛⌛
Jessica threw water over her still features as she glanced at herself in the mirror. There was something odd about the way her face had taken shape over the past couple of days, and she wondered if it could be sinking in due to her stress from the move. Arrakis wasn't her ideal home, but she was learning to make do with what she had considering she didn't have a choice in the matter. If Paul was really proven to be the Muad'Dib, then he wouldn't have been able to fulfill his prophecy on Caladan. Not that that was her reason for moving, but it was definitely an image that plagued her mind. Her son, all grown up. Constantly living in danger.
It was every parent's dream.
Sighing to herself, she fixed the straps on her nightgown and opened the door to her shared bedroom with the Duke Leto. The room itself was a dark brass color with ancient inscriptions on the walls and ceilings and an abundance of space. It was intimate with the way the room was dimly lit with candles; something again that she didn't see a lot of on Caladan. Her home used to be dark and gothic, with a clear view of grey skies and rain through every window. It was beautiful and perfect. And now she was stuck in a summery wasteland.
Sighing to herself, she slipped into the silky sheets that adorned the top of her mattress. The Duke's side of the bed was cold, as usual, meaning that there was something keeping him in the office; he would probably just sleep among the books again if given the change. The truth was, Jessica didn't like being alone, no. It was a type of loneliness that festered within the very being of her soul when it came to the nights she would find herself with only her thoughts to keep her company. Bene Gesserit, Muad'Dib, the Crysknife. Anything and everything that would pull on her heartstrings until awaking the next morning became a feat in itself.
And that mischievous son of hers. There was no way that he was staying out of trouble, not with you around. Jessica saw every glance in your direction that you didn't; Paul had quickly become infatuated with you. Whether it was because of the close proximity in age or if it was the brief conversations beforehand, she was surprised that her son had taken interest in a servant girl. No matter, he would eventually come to his senses.
One thing was for certain though. Jessica did not like you.
She tried to place her finger on exactly what it might be, but she just couldn't figure out why she found you so detestable. It had nothing to do with her son's intentions and everything to do with your demeanor. You were strong and held a face of power that all the servants she had met in her life didn't have. Almost like...almost like a Bene Gesserit.
As Jessica threw back her covers in realization, the house shook with the first blast of the enemy attack.
⌛⌛⌛
"Ataraxia!" Paul huffed after you once he caught a glimpse of your frame on the desert sands below. Cloak whipping around you, you held something close to your chest as you ran across the cool sands and towards the ships that started to invade the sky. With the fire burning behind you and the blaring of the bombs above, it was truly a sight to be seen as chunks of sand and ship debris flew around the night sky. The stars twinkling overhead managed to look so innocent compared to the rest of the setting; Paul being similar. The innocence that filled his eyes upon catching your gaze once you turned around at the sound of your name. His hair flying about and his nervous stance added to his confusion as you started to walk towards him.
"I promised to take your head. But if you wish to go with me entirely, I can't complain. My uncle desires your death more than the Fremens desire that cursed spice." You tried to voice your words with anger; getting closer and closer to the boy who had it coming from the start. It wasn't fair for him to do this to you, not now that you were so far into the game already. This kiss had really set you off and now you didn't know what to make of yourself. It wasn't fair. What compelled you to act like this?
Paul reached for the shield in his pocket and then- it hit him. Why you acted the way you did. What drew him in. You were never an ally to him or his family. The name Harkonnen filled his mind like a violent poison, reaching every crevice of his soul and leaving a dark empty void within him. It polluted the very veins within him, ripping out his heart and leaving a vile taste in his mouth. You were a traitor.
"O-oh." Was all he managed to say as he placed his hand on his chest in hopes to still his breathing. A dark and solemn look suddenly appearing on his face; he composed himself and gathered every ounce of strength within him as he prepared for a fight, remembering back to everything that Hawat had taught him. Turning on his shield, he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to change the image in his mind of you to become the enemy and not a lover, but to no avail. He couldn't hate you even if he tried to.
"Seriously, how dense do you have to be?" You said, expecting to be reveling off the fact that he had fallen directly into your trap. Yet something in you felt off. Paul was hurt and for some reason, it hurt you too.
"Ataraxia -"
"It's (Y/N)." You corrected him, now finally being able to give away your true name instead of going undercover with that stupid alias your uncle had made. "(Y/N) Harkonnen." Another blast of light was seen in the sky with a loud boom that followed. A piece of one of the Harkonnen ships flew overhead and landed about forty feet behind Paul, giving you the distraction you needed to attack. Without giving it too much thought, you ran forward and made a quick motion with your knife to try and slit Paul's throat. He must've anticipated this, for in a second his hands gripped both your wrists to try and hold you down. With surprise, you knee him in the stomach and drop down to grab your knife, placing it up to his throat once more. The shield around him started to burn with the color red as you held the knife in close contact, trying to break the device with the longer you held it there.
"Atara-(Y/N)! You don't have to do this!" Paul managed to get out between huffs. He used his previous training to break out of your grasp and to pin your arms behind your back, both of you falling to the sand. He holds you in place as you squirm in his grip, staring at him from above.
"You know, I might've actually enjoyed this under different circumstances." You kicked him in the face and waited for his natural retaliation before jumping up and pushing him back down, kicking him in the face and spraying blood from his nose onto the brown earth below. He had a gash along the underside of his chin and most definitely a broken nose. However; you hated to admit that he was still beautiful, even all bashed up and bruised.
"Oh fuck off." He spat and swerved out of the way before you could kick him again.
Just then the ground started to shake but in a way that was both familiar....and alarming. Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach as your brain put two and two together, knowing that the imminent threat of danger was Paul no longer. It was the Shai Hulud that buried itself deep within the sands.
⌛⌛⌛
(AN: Part four coming soon! Thank you all for being so patient with the third installment! 💛🦐)
Tags: @die-collective @xoxoloverb @totallynotkaibiased
Thank you all for being so patient! I have had a serious writing block, but I ensure you that Promise part three is coming sometime next week!
💛🦐
Promise pt.2
PAUL ATREIDES X READER
You were to remain on Arrakis to aid in destroying the Atreides family: a Bene Gesserit trained assassin working for the Harkonnen House. It shouldn't have been hard to kill The Duke Leto's son with your Crysknife, however, love can be messier than blood.
The summery orange sky cast long shadows against the wooden floor, the sun illuminating the sands and everything within the castle as it set across the Arrakis sky. It was warm and comforting, but a reminder of the scorching heat of the outside. Looking out to the distance from the corridor window, one could see the crevices left by the sandworms in their wake; the earth caving in where they had dug through.
Walking Paul through what was once the Harkonnen House, you noticed things about the place that you hadn't before now that you had time to walk around for yourself. For instance, the way the stained glass windows of the downstairs cathedral style rooms created patterns against the ceilings and made everything a rainbow color. Or the way your shoes made noises against the freshly polished wood of certain areas within the home whereas they didn't on the smooth stone. There was a slight breeze that filled the hallways and flew strands of Paul's hair out of his eyes and all around his face. His eyes were a piercing grey-blue with an intensity in them today that you haven't seen in a while. His chiseled features were set in a frown as he glanced about the hallway, looking in any direction other than the one you were in. It was irritating.
"Something on your mind, sir?" You asked the tall boy next to you, awaiting a response.
"I thought I mentioned that we could drop the formalities between us?" He said in a short and curt tone. What was with him today? What had put him in such an agitated mood since leaving the dining hall?
"Forgive me Paul." You said obviously starting to get firey with every word that managed to escape your lips. Why is he being such a..... What did he call it the other day again? Bitchass?
He let out a puff of air and the expression on his face calmed a little. "I apologize for the abruptness, I just came back from an interesting conversation with my father."
His father! You hadn't caught a glimpse of him since the Atreides family had moved in. Always busying himself with the plans to harvest the spice and to keep the Fremens at bay, he was almost invisible.
It was getting harder and harder to accomplish your mission.
"Your father..?" You asked, leaving the conversation open for him to add his own input. If he could give any clues as to where he was or something in regards to strategies the Duke Leto shared with him in private, you might just be able to carry through with the attack before anyone got suspicious.
He pushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes and stopped dead center of the hallway, giving you a clear notion that he wanted you to pause your tour. His fingers twitched at his side and his anxiousness was evident, even through the facade he put on in front of you. You wondered why he would be carefree and heartfelt one moment and then tense and stoic the next. Was he struggling with his duty of becoming heir to the throne? Had his father mentioned something so troubling that things had gone haywire?
"I found a Hunter-Seeker today. It was in my room this morning."
The air around you suddenly felt cold. The comfort of the sunlight was no longer within the corridor as a chill ran down your spine. That wasn't a part of the plan.
"A-a Hunter-Seeker? Are you sure?"
"I'm pretty sure since I was almost killed." He said with a matter-of-fact tone. So this is what was stressing him.
"Did you contact anyone outside of your intermediate family? Did you talk to the guards? What did Hawat have to say about the ordeal? Is your mother-"
"Ataraxia." He held you down in place sensing your worry. Something about the way he held his palms against your shoulders calmed you down. It was a comforting touch but it could also be deadly if anyone is to see the two of you like this. You are, after all, just supposed to be a servant.
He paused a moment before you looked up at him with fury in your eyes. This isn't how things were supposed to go. You weren't told of there being another assassination attempt for the Atreides family since this was supposed to be your reconciliation with the Harkonnens. This was your ultimate approval of trust.
Maybe you were taking too long.
"Ataraxia? Why do you look angrier than me? I was the one who almost died." He pondered aloud.
Your hand went to caress the hilt of your Crysknife within your pocket to calm yourself. You were letting too much information slip through the cracks by allowing yourself to be upset over this. Paul was right.
"Forgive me. I lost my sense of place."
"It's quite alright. There's no harm in delving into one's own thoughts." He smiled with a pained expression and made a movement to carry on towards the end of the hall. You followed suit.
⏳⏳⏳
You pushed your face down into your pillow that night with an angry scowl and a menacing gaze. This was uncalled for. There was no one within the Harkonnen House that would be fit enough for your position; how could your uncle exile you to your home planet and force you to do his bidding without keeping promise of his reward? It made no sense as you were favored over Feyd-Rautha.
You turn over and stare at the ceiling above you. The maids quarters didn't have the skylight that your old room did; a place where you often found solace. It was impossible trying to sleep in the dingy and unkept room that you were expected to and instead you decided that you were angry enough to break the rules and be less cautious.
You were going to sneak back to your old room tonight.
The Atreides family hadn't used it yet to your knowledge. They had busied themselves with the other floors, being quick to set up offices and bedrooms and not having the time for much else. Hawat chose his own room and his training room on the far side of the House which left the upstairs basically uncharted. You would have to be quick throughout the halls as to not be seen, but once you had made it to the skylight room atop the roof, you would be fine for the night.
Slipping past the other sleeping maids, you made your way to the hall and slipped out the door. The night sky shone in through the many windows of the ancient building; the Arrakian moons almost as luminous as the sun. This moonlight allowed you to see as you slipped through the shadows and made your way to the staircase across from the Dining Hall. Being cautious of each step, you silently compiled yourself and your anxieties with sneaking out as you found the room with the only silver handle in the house. It had to be pushed inwards, not turned. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to enter.
The skylight was the same as you remembered and as you'd figured, there was not a box in sight. The glass dome showed the stars and the moons of your beloved planet and the galaxies far beyond which were sure to be home to many other living creatures out there. You wondered what the extraterrestrials would be like and you shivered at the thought. Slimy and green you muttered to yourself and you laid on the floor, tilting your vision up to the sky.
"Slimy and green?"
You jolted backwards upon hearing another voice within the room. Twisting your body at a weird angle, you instinctively grab at the knife in it's holster and prepare yourself for a battle.
His brown hair was all curled in awkward places; a difference than it's usual contempt state. His lounge wear hugged his body in ways that were meant to provide utmost comfort, but it was clear that the set was too big for him. His eyes shone through the dark with their familiar friendly yet motivated gaze.
"Paul," you said, lowering your guard, "you scared me."
"My apologies, I promise you that it wasn't my intention." He smiled and positioned himself to lay next to you.
"What brings you up here? I figured everyone would be asleep." You asked. It was slightly annoying having to see him everywhere and never having any time to yourself. You always had to put up a front so that you would be able to carry out your duty in the end. It gets exhausting after a while.
"Should I be asking you the same thing?" He grins again and for a split second you could've sworn that he had made a suggestive look downwards. Just as quickly as his gaze was on you, it was back to the stars ahead and his eyes shone with the luminosity of it all.
"Right. I just- found this place the other day. Thought it would look cooler if I went to see it when the sun wasn't up." You lied straight to his face for what seemed like the millionth time that day. How many more lies would you have to tell?
"I come up here occasionally to watch the stars." He said, patting the space next to him to motion you towards the spot you were originally sitting in.
You calmed down and lowered yourself towards the ground next to the boy you were meant to kill. It felt odd knowing that you were playing a nice conversation with someone who would be bloody by your hands within the next couple of days if you played your cards right. You thought about carrying his beautiful head severed from his petite frame to Vladimir and receiving your reward for pleasing him. You thought about the way he would look next to both Jessica and Leto in the horrible graves of the bodies your uncle dumped when he was done profiting off of their murders. You thought about the smell of his ashes as he burned within the ground and joined the night sky that he looked at now.
And Paul thought of you. He'd hate to admit it, but you had taken over his mind lately. Fierce and opinionated, you were a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't met anyone his age nearly as interesting as they had all been too busy with that cursed Bene-Gesserit crap that he'd been forced to learn at such a young age. You were different.
And while you thought of his blood he thought of your lips. The way they would taste against his own and if you'd even like that. He thought of the way you outshone the stars and your intelligence of the cruelties of the world. Two kids forced to grow up too fast. He felt his chest make crazy palpitations; only something that happened when he was around the erratic Ataraxia. The mysterious girl who shrouded herself in the only darkness this planet had to offer. For once, Paul was thankful they had left Caladan.
You looked so beautiful with your hair sprawled out around you and your face tilted towards the glass above. The light brought out the angles of your face so that Paul could see you in a different way; he was used to seeing your skin kissed with the orange glow of the sun and now he could see the same you but with the silver of the moon. Paul wondered if the Fremen's spice dreams were of things just as beautiful.
The timing was almost so perfect you could feel it on your tongue. One hand on your knife, your mind ran crazy with the thoughts of finally being able to kill him. With a quick stab under the ribcage, he would be gone in moments. It would be too difficult of a wound to heal medically, and while he was gasping for air you could slit his throat. He was leaning into you and you were leaning into him. Two strikes would be all it took.
The timing was almost so perfect Paul could feel it on his tongue. One hand inching closer to yours, his mind ran crazy with the thoughts of finally being able to kiss you after thinking about it for so long. With a quick shift to his side, he could execute it fast and meaningfully as he hoped you would feel the same passion as him. It would be difficult to convince his parents to let you be with him and he knew he could be facing a lifetime of troubles if he really decided to be with you. There was just something so alluring about it that he couldn't help himself. You were leaning into him and he was leaning into you. One kiss would be all it took for him to know the truth. Was he in love?
One of you with the intent to kill and the other with the intent to love. Either way, it was a dance with death and the game the two of you were playing was dangerous.
Who's heart was going to break first?
⏳⏳⏳
(AN: Part Three coming soon!!! This was a short chapter, but I've been busy with a lot of things and haven't had as much time to write. I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for the second part!! Thank you for reading 💛🦐)
Tags: @die-collective
DUNE
Paul Atreides:
Promise: (Part One) You've made a promise to the Harkonnens to end the Atreides bloodline once and for all, working on the inside to take them down. It really sucks that your sworn enemy is hot.
Promise: (Part Two)
(Romance/Slight Angst/Enemies to Lovers)
Promise: (Part Three)
(Romance/Slight Angst/ Enemies to Lovers)
Promise
PAUL ATREIDES X READER
You were to remain on Arrakis to aid in destroying the Atreides family: a Bene Gesserit trained assassin working for the Harkonnen House. It shouldn't have been hard to kill The Duke Leto's son with your Crysknife, however, love can be messier than blood.
The Bene Gesserit way had always been to look out for your loved ones, but stay behind the scenes. It has always been to fulfill the duty assigned to you since birth; to continue a lineage but never to create your own legacy. It was a way of life and it was collapsible. Not only did it bring down those that followed, but it also destroyed the lives of many. The closest to its creation would be that of religion, something that died years before the Great Houses were moved from the Earth and to the galaxy.
This was the life you were forced to conform to.
Day in and day out, you were taught the Bene Gesserit age since birth; your family hoping to continue their lineage and create a legacy that would rule the galaxy once the Padishah Emperor was removed from the Imperial House. Which, of course, was what your House had been planning on since the beginning of everything. The world was supposed to burn and everyone was to go with it. The downfall of humanity.
You belonged to the House Harkonnen.
Leaving your prized planet of Arrakis- home to you since the year 10174. Going into 10191, your Uncle, The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, had planned to wipe out the cursed Atreides family by sending them to Arrakis with the false promise of the Spice Harvest. It was a trap to convince them of a growing economy, which would lead to their deaths as they figured a spy was among them. Dr. Yueh, their prized professor was working behind the scenes and helping your family to kill The Duke Leto Atreides.
And thus, your Bene Gesserit training had come to an end and a new one began. You were to stay on Arrakis and continue the ploy under the alias "Ataraxia." You were to kill Paul in his sleep the same night Dr. Yueh betrayed his best friend's trust. It shouldn't be an issue considering your training, and you were to use one of the fabled Crysknifes known to reside on your home planet. They were made with the tooth of the mighty sandworm and needed human flesh. It had to be close to the holder's side for the duration of its use or it would disintegrate into the very sands that swept the grounds. It was a highly valuable object; the holder could not leave the planet alive with one of these. One stab to the sternum would be all it took to deal a deathly blow and end the Atreides bloodline once and for all.
The Harkonnens were nasty and prided themselves on war. You would do anything to keep the pride your Uncle had in you and to keep your beloved planet, the only place you truly found solace.
And it would've been so easy.
But Paul Atreides was nothing short of beautiful.
Tall, slender, and an angular face that of which would make many look as though they're dying, but on him it made him look like the most beautiful chiseled statues. His long and soft dark hair that glistened in the morning sun of Arrakis that anyone would be jealous of and his beautiful blue grey eyes that struck fear into the hearts of many. Always a proper aura and his drive to study the laws of the land radiated that of Bene Gesserit training. You weren't sure if it was his intelligence, his looks, or the fact that he was the known enemy that captivated you first. But what you did know was that his softness was that unlike any other.
Your first meeting day had been when their household objects had moved into your familiar but drab home. They made it seem royal and warm at the same time, a contrast of the particularly cold and clean feel that the Harkonnens left on the place. You noticed the Duke Leto painted into an ornate frame above the mantel piece dressed as a matador. Across from it above the fireplace on the opposite wall was the head of the bull, frozen in time with the blood of the Duke's father upon its horns.
Your hand grazed the edges of the table that filled this room. The Harkonnens had used it for seating and the Atreides family used it as dining. The table was mahogany and must've been hand carved due to the intricate patters that looked like whittling. You pondered the thought of some servant who specialized in fine arts sitting at this seat and working the edges of the table into a flower.
Next, you noticed that the halls were empty. Your Uncle used as many servants as he needed and they all ran around the dark and dreary hallways looking for orders to take and messages to deliver. Before you had your heart set on helping your Uncle, you had continued your Bene Gesserit training under one of the servant women. But what was her name? You tried to recall, but noticed you had been joined by someone within the house.
"Ataraxia." He said.
Turning around, you came face to face with the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes upon. Actually, his eyes were what you saw first; boring into your soul with those piercing icy pupils of his. His entire demeanor was that of wealth, he stood tall and stoic and had an aura of elegance. You expected him to be of royal relation to the family Atreides, but what you weren't expecting was his kindness.
"Sorry for startling you." he said, softly smiling and moving his gaze to the wooden surface below your fingertips. Something about him seemed off, however, like there was something missing that he was refusing to show you. It was cold and dark but it was hidden away in the crevices of his mind.
"You're forgiven." You stated, raising your chin to meet his gaze once more, remembering your training.
"Ah, another Bene Gesserit." He stated, running his fingers through his hair. At first, you wanted to laugh. After such a royal introduction he decided to do something so boyish!
You suppressed your giggles as you fully grasped his assumption. He was intelligent.
His intellect drew you closer to where he was standing. "How'd you figure?"
He turned away from you and walked to the fireplace that was adorned with the gold flaking your Uncle had specially imported from Castle Caladan. The home planet of Atreides. The mystery man stopped with his hands behind his back (beautiful hands, you might add) and his hair falling at his shoulders.
"No one stands with such excruciatingly painful posture on their own accord."
Now you did laugh. The man was startled at first, but he then smiled with that same expression he had once he'd entered the room.
"Now it is my turn to apologize for startling you," you said, containing yourself once more. What power did he have over you that made you feel so easy. Did he posses The Voice?
"You're forgiven." He mimicked your response.
"I thought the Bene Gesserit were women?" You asked, motioning for him to continue, "At least that is what the Reverend Mother claims."
"The Reverend Mother is a bitchass." He said.
You froze. Did he...did he just insult her Majesty Gaius Helen Mohaim? With such vulgar language?
"I- forgive me... What defines a bitchass?" You asked.
He looked frightened after his last comment until you asked him a question pertaining to his language. Instantly calm once again now that he knows he needn't be so proper around you, he drops his guard. "It's a combination of curse words." He laughs and it's like music filled your eardrums. "I'm not entirely sure of the meaning, I read it in a book on old worlds."
After the both of you laugh, you decide to ask him.
"You know my name, of course. But might I know yours?"
He stops laughing and looks at you with a quizzical expression. "You don't recognize me?" He asks.
You instantly felt your cheeks get hot. He was pleasant and intelligent, and here you were standing like a blubbering idiot.
"I'm afraid I don't, sir."
He smiles at you once again. "I believe we are the same age, no need to keep the formalities. Please, refer to me as Paul."
He was kind and beautiful and smart.
And he was the boy you had to kill.
That was your first meeting with the young royal Paul Atreides and since then you couldn't get your mind off of his angelic features and determined gaze. There was something about him that was more captivating than the Spice itself; something that tempted you to get closer to him in ways you couldn't understand. But you wouldn't fail your Uncle, no. You had a mission as a Bene Gesserit and a Harkonnen. You were going to stab him with your Crysknife and end the bloodline. Once and for all.
⏳⏳⏳
You awoke in your cold bedroom on the day that would mark your second month living with the Atreides family. Continuing under the alias, you were rising up quickly above the other servants, no doubt about that. However, you were careful with your movements. If Paul was able to gather information off you so easily it would ruin everything. And not to mention his conniving mother, Jessica. She was always giving you the side eye as though she knew there was something off about you.
Glancing around the room, you see the blank and dry walls of the server's quarters. Your previous bedroom was taken by Paul himself; you now learning how to reside in a place less familiar. Nevertheless, you made it work. Hoisting on your dark pants and plain top you made your way to the common area where the Atreides family was to be having breakfast.
"Ataraxia!" A gust of wind blew past as Paul made his way towards you in the hallway. Walking with fast strides, you slow down to allow him to catch up. Why was he taking such an interest in conversing with you? Instinctively, your hand goes to your side to feel for the comforting coolness of the Crysknife.
"Sir." You said, now giving him your full attention. He was wearing the same uniform dark pants and a dust grey colored long sleeve adorned with the Atreides crest; a red hawk emblem. Even with the dull colors he still managed to show his beauty.
"I thought I requested to drop the formalities?" He smiled and you felt your face go hot. Right, of course.
"My apologies Si- uh Paul." You managed to get out, removing your hand from your side.
He looked towards your hands and then back to your face with a quizzical expression. He was about to open his mouth and ask what it was you were hiding, but instead he smiled and took your caution as just being startled. He might've been going against his instinct, but there was something about you that put him at ease.
Little did he know you were his own personal femme fatale.
"Nothing to worry over." He said and the two of you continued your procession to the downstairs. The rest of the walk was silent except for the occasional passerby. Paul said nothing else so neither did you.
⏳⏳⏳
The room was lit with the orange sky from the outside, the sun shining down on the window panes and creating a yellowish glow on the elegant dining room you had first met Paul in. The wooden arches gave the entirety of the room an elegant feel, they contrasted against the bare walls in a way that felt both comforting and regal. This had always been one of your favorite rooms in the house, as it had been the brightest.
Paul made his way over to one of the spots at the table, fixing the hem of his shirt and pushing his hair away from his eyes. You caught a glimpse of the ring on his left hand, an Atreides crest present there as well. Even though he was just wearing simple house clothes, he looked elegant as ever.
You made your way to the other end of the room, standing against the wall to take any orders Lady Jessica or Duke Leto had asked of you. It was a servant's duty, after all. It was odd to be on the other side of the spectrum since you were usually the one to be waited on.
"Ataraxia." You heard your alias coming from the mouth of Paul's mother, Lady Jessica. Your feet were taking you in her direction before your mind had time to wonder what it was she was about to ask of you. Stopping just a few feet from her chair, you waited for her to speak.
"I'm aware you have a knowledge of this place that surpasses the knowledge of the other servants?" She asked you with dark eyes. She knew you had been a servant in the Harkonnen House since before they moved, but to her knowledge that's where all your information of the place came from. There was no way she could've figured out that a servant isn't actually what you were?
You looked at her to see if there was any sign of knowing, but there was none. She seemed genuinely disinterested in your background.
"Yes, that is correct ma'am." You replied.
"I expect you to show Paul around the place, as we are still new and he has a break from his studies this afternoon." She said, going back to scooping up her breakfast with her fork. Elegant. Poised. Royal.
It made you sick.
"Of course."
Slinking away back to your original position against the wall, you smiled to yourself.
You and Paul would be alone, you could finally make your first strike.
Little did you realize, your smile didn't go unnoticed.
⏳⏳⏳
( AN: Part Two coming soon!! Thank you to everyone who reads my fics! It means the world to me! 💛🦐)
POV: You’re Timmy’s S/O and this is what your camera roll looks like (Part 5):
Bonus: “I’m takin a pic of YOU dis time😈”
Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5
POV: You’re Timmy’s S/O and this is what your camera roll looks like (Part 4):
Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5
What Are Friends For?
Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader Summary: Timmy catches reader masturbating... Friends help each other out, right? ;) Warnings: Smut (fingering & oral), being caught masturbating, friends with benefits, no aftercare. Word count: 711
It was your own fault, really.
You knew Timmy was coming over, but you figured you still had a good fifteen minutes or so before he got there. So you found yourself in bed, pants off, in your own world of pleasure.
You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t even hear the front door open or the steps coming down the hall.
“(Y/N), I brought some Chinese food and-” He cut himself off as he took in the scene before him. You silently cursed yourself for leaving the bedroom door open.
“Timmy!” you exclaimed, grabbing the nearest blanket to cover yourself. But it was too late; he’d already seen everything. “You-you’re early.”
“Yeah, I…” The words died in his throat. He didn’t even know what to say. His eyebrows were raised and he blinked a few times. He looked from your eyes down to the blanket now covering you. He licked his lips, his voice dropping considerably. “Do you, uh… need help with that?”
Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Your cheeks heated. You’d always thought Timmy was attractive, but you were just friends… You’d never thought of him like that…
Still, you found yourself saying, “W… would you?”
He nodded, coming closer to you. “Of course. What are friends for?” he smirked mischievously. Your heart rate quickened as he knelt in front of you, pulling the blanket off your legs and haphazardly discarding it. You leaned back on your elbows. He licked his lips as his gaze dropped to your heat, now completely exposed for him. A wave of excitement surged through you.
Without giving it a second thought, he leaned down and licked a long stripe up your slit. You gasped at the feeling of his warm tongue on your sensitive pussy.
He ran his fingers over your slit a few times before sticking the middle one in, looking up at you to gauge your reaction. If you appeared even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he’d stop.
But you weren’t uncomfortable at all. In fact, you wanted more. Your mouth dropped open and you lifted your hips, trying to give him a better angle. He pumped in and out a few times, eliciting a tiny whimper from you.
When he added another finger, you could no longer support your weight and dropped onto your back on the bed. His long fingers curled upward inside you, hitting the spot that always made your legs shake.
He tried a third finger and cursed to himself as he found that you were almost too tight for it. Hearing the whispered “fuck” leave his lips was almost enough to make you cum on the spot. He was enjoying this just as much as you.
He knew you were holding back a moan, so he moved faster, trying to coax it out of you. It worked, and the noise escaped your throat. He rewarded you by sucking your clit. You placed a hand over your mouth, holding back a scream as the pleasure built inside you.
The base of your spine began to tingle and you instinctively reached down, tangling your fingers in his curls. His fingers moved even faster, practically slamming in and out of you, and as he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit, you fell over the edge.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as your orgasm coursed through you. He didn’t pull out until your pussy finally stopped fluttering around his fingers.
He flopped onto his back next to you. It almost seemed like he’d momentarily forgotten you were there, his attention fixed on his fingers and your essence coating them. He blinked at them dreamily, twisting his hand and taking them in at every angle. Finally, he sucked them into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue. The mere image of him sucking your wetness off his fingers almost made you cum again. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring your taste.
Finally, he turned onto his side, looking at you. Your eyes flicked down to his jeans, which were undeniably constricted. You swallowed, thinking he’d probably be expecting something in return.
But instead, he simply said, “The foods’ getting cold,” before pulling himself to his feet and exiting the room.
Biggest Fan
Pairing: Timothee Chalamet x f!Reader Summary: Reader has been absolutely filthy in the DMs and when she meets Timothée unexpectedly, he wants her to make good on her promises. Warnings: Smut (oral - male receiving), sexualizing a celebrity, technically a power imbalance, curse words. Word count: 2k
There was no way he’d ever see your DMs. He probably got thousands of messages a day; yours would get lost in a sea of countless others. And he was rarely ever on Twitter…
Still, you’d occasionally send some DMs anyway, just for the hell of it. It started tame. Telling him how much you loved his work, how excited you were for the next Dune movie… Small things like that.
And then the thirst started.
It was all because of the Oscars… The damn Oscars. God, he looked so good. You felt like you were going to explode the second the shirtless image of him appeared on your TV screen. In the heat of the moment, you whipped out your phone and began typing every lewd thought that popped into your head.
Everything about him was perfect, from his hair down to the smallest details, like the rings on his fingers. You drank in every image you could find of his bare chest. Before you knew it, you were composing the nastiest paragraph you’d ever written in your life (up until that point, at least) and hitting send without a second thought.
God, it’s almost unfair how perfect you are. You’re so fucking sexy in your sparkly little jacket. I wanna taste every inch of you. I want you to fuck my mouth and make me gag on your cock. I want your cum running down my throat. I want you to fuck me so hard and fast that all I know is your name. I want you to absolutely obliterate me. I wanna be your personal fuckdoll… I’m fucking dripping just thinking about it. I need you inside me so fucking bad. I’m such a needy slut for you.
That was just the first one, and as time went on, they grew more graphic. It became an outlet, a way to get all of this sexual energy out. Your messages ranged from short, innocent sentences to long, erotic paragraphs detailing all of the depraved things you wanted him to do to you.
But he’d never see it.
Right?
***
The club was full of drunk, sweaty bodies. You were perfectly content to stand in the corner all night with your best friend, Jess, and sway to the music, feeling the bass vibrate through the floor.
“Hey, isn’t he that guy you’re so obsessed with?” Jess asked, pointing discreetly to a group of guys in the corner.
Your jaw dropped as you realized you were standing in the presence of the Timothée Chalamet. He was with a group of friends and appeared to be having a good time. Your heart began to race in your chest.
“Come on,” Jess said, taking in your stunned appearance. She tugged your hand, starting to lead you in his direction, but you pulled back.
“Are you fucking insane? I can’t just walk right up to him, I’ll literally drop dead on the spot.”
“Okay, fine, don’t talk to him.” She held back a laugh at your outburst. “But you know if you don’t at least stand in the same general vicinity as him, you’ll hate yourself forever.”
Damn. You hated when she was right.
You both weaved through the crowd, strategically placing yourselves closer and closer every few moments without making it too obvious.
You fought the urge to keep glancing at him, though all you wanted to do was drink in his appearance. You weren’t sure you’d ever get the chance to see him in person again.
Jess was talking about something Britney had said to her earlier - you weren’t really paying too much attention - when you tried to steal a glance at exactly the wrong moment.
His eyes met yours.
And instead of looking away and pretending nothing had happened like a normal person would in this circumstance, you froze. Your eyes widened, giving you a slight deer-in-the-headlights expression. He broke into that adorable, lopsided smile you loved so much.
Then, to your surprise, he started moving toward you.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whispered to Jess.
“Wha-”
“Hey, I’m Timothée,” he said. Jess’s eyes widened, too, as she processed the situation. Holy fuck he was so close, you could smell him now. And he smelled good.
“I… I know,” you replied stupidly, the awe evident in your voice.
“I’m Jess, and this is (Y/N),” she stepped in for you. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“You too,” he smiled. His eyes flicked back to you. His brow furrowed and his head tilted to one side as he took you in, but after a few seconds, he shook his head. “Sorry, have we met before?”
“Umm…” You pretended to think for a second, even though you’d definitely remember if you’d met this literal god before. “Nope, I don’t think so.”
“Hm… Weird. I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”
You shrugged this off; he’d probably met so many fans in so many countries, there was bound to be at least one other girl somewhere who somewhat resembled you.
He was extremely nice and offered to take photos with you. He hung around to chat for a few minutes before excusing himself back to his friends. Besides your general awkwardness - which he was probably used to, judging by the way he easily brushed it off - the interaction couldn’t have gone any better.
“He’s literally my future husband,” you told Jess dreamily as you both watched him walk away.
“Not if I marry him first,” she joked.
“Hey! At least share!” You pouted.
She jokingly stuck her tongue out at you, and then her eyes scanned the room. “Well, if my marriage to Timmy doesn’t pan out, I think I just found his replacement. Mind if I go dance?”
“Nah, go right ahead,” you replied. You leaned against a wall, focusing on your phone. You posted your photo with Timmy to Instagram, and then popped onto Twitter to make the photo your profile pic. Your moots were about to go feral. For a moment, your thumb hovered over the messages icon.
Ah, why not?
Hot sweatpants, cutie. I’ll make you sweat and pant;)
You chuckled a little to yourself. God, that was a cringey one. Still, it was just for your entertainment, so why not?
You continued scrolling through Twitter, enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame as you were bombarded by a million questions, each more unhinged than the last (‘What did he smell like?’ ‘Who was he with?’ ‘Did you lick his hand? I would’ve licked his hand’ etc). You were in the middle of replying to someone when you heard a voice beside you.
“I know where I recognized you from!”
Your eyes met his green ones and your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t expecting any more attention from Timothée, but obviously welcomed it.
“Where’s that?” you asked, trying to be nonchalant. He pulled up his phone and showed you the screen.
Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. You were horrified as you took in Timothée’s view of your DM’s. He must have turned his read receipts off. He didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment as he scrolled up in the conversation a little.
“This is one of my favorites, ‘My ass is grass and I want you to mow it.’ Or that time you just sent the link to Deep Throat by Cupcakke.”
“Oh, god,” you said, putting your head in your hands. You couldn’t even deny that it was you; the profile picture gave you away. You wanted to spontaneously combust. “I didn’t think you’d actually see that.”
“I could tell…” he chuckled. Thankfully, he scrolled past your more… needy messages and focused on the ironic ones. “‘I would let you break my back in half, spit in my mouth, dislocate my jaw, pee on me, rip out my intestines, and then hit me with your car and I’d still be your biggest fan.’”
“Ugh, God,” you groaned.
He smirked at you and you swore his eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second. When he spoke again, the joking tone had disappeared. “You think you’re my biggest fan?”
Your mouth opened but no words came out. You drew in a sharp breath. “I- uh… y-yeah.”
His voice dropped dangerously low; you were sure no one else could hear. “Would you be willing to prove it?”
His words swam around in your head and you struggled to make sense of them. Surely, you had misunderstood… You blinked, watching as his tongue swiped over his lips.
“Absolutely.”
Before you could even process what was happening, he had taken your hand and led you down a hallway, somehow unseen by anyone else. He slipped you into a bathroom and shut the door behind you both.
Pressing you against the door, he attached his lips to yours.
You felt yourself relax into him as he kissed you deeply. Suddenly, your shy side had disappeared and in its place stood the horndog who had written all those DMs. You gently bit his bottom lip and he wound his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and he ground against you. You practically moaned; he was already hard. You reached down, stroking him through his pants. He was just as big as you’d imagined.
You pushed him back until he was leaning against the sink and were on your knees in an instant, tugging down his sweatpants. You licked your lips as his dick sprang free.
“Love reading your desperate little messages over and over again…” he sighed, his head dropping back a little as you stroked him slowly.
“Mmm… Yeah?” you smirked, taking the tip between your lips and sucking lightly. His eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he gripped the counter for support. You could tell he was restraining himself from bucking his hips up into you.
“Fuuuuckkk yeaaah,” he hissed. Slowly, teasingly, you began to descend on him. “God, I jack off nearly every day to them… Love seeing how needy you are for me.”
Your brain practically stopped working; the situation you found yourself in was too good to even begin to comprehend. Timothée Chalamet had just admitted to enjoying your depraved fantasies while his dick was in your mouth. Your pussy was dripping.
You hummed in response, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head torturously slow. He seemed to understand the game you were playing and was happy to give you more.
“Sometimes I go onto your profile and scroll through your selfies and imagine fucking you just like you want me to.” One of his hands weaved into your hair, but he didn’t apply any pressure just yet. You took all of him in your mouth now, his tip nudging the back of your throat. You came back up slowly, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft.
“Fuck,” he hissed again. You started to bob your head faster now. After a few moments, his restraint wavered and he began to thrust into you. You blinked up at him, eyes full of nothing but pure adoration as he fucked your mouth. “Fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking good for me… Gonna be a good girl and swallow my cum?”
“Mmmhm,” you hummed and he gasped at the feeling of your throat vibrating. He released another string of curses before you felt his hot cum shooting down your throat. You absolutely savored the moment, taking in every drop you could. You never wanted to forget this feeling; this taste.
You bobbed your head a couple more times before pulling off, causing his legs to tremble. He caught his breath, pulling his pants back up. He looked down at you, knelt on the floor before him, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.
He held out a hand to help you up, which you took. You frowned, unhappy that your encounter was over.
But as if reading your mind, he took your face in his hands. “Don’t look so disappointed. I’m not finished with you yet, love.”
Dating Timmy - Random Headcanons
He always eats and leaves crumbs in the bed, so... enjoy that🙃
When he's sick, you bring him anything he wants, cuddle him, and rub his back.
And he does the same for you.
When you can't sleep at night, he'll sing to you. Whatever song you want.
Except Statistics.
And Yeet.
Sometimes when you shower, he'll sit on the bathroom floor like a puppy because he just wants to be with you.
His love language is physical touch, so he always wants to kiss and hug and cuddle.
It doesn't even have to be romantic touching, it can be something as small as your knees brushing while you're sitting next to each other. Just so he knows you're near him.
When you sit on the floor and do your makeup in the full length mirror, he'll sit and hug you from behind. Sometimes he'll rest his head on your shoulder and watch you through the mirror. It's especially cute early in the morning, when his hair is messy and he's blinking at you sleepily.
Sometimes he'll let you put some blush or lip gloss on him. He's adorable.
He knows you love his hair, so he lets you do whatever you want with it. Pigtails, braids, buns... One night, he let you straighten it.
You then realized that you'd made a huge mistake and forced him to wet it so it would curl again🫣
He holds your undershirt down for you when you take his your hoodies off.
You're both very private but your relationship definitely isn't a secret.
You're both extremely busy, but you try to have date night at least once a week.
It doesn't always have to be going out somewhere; sometimes it's just sitting at the table and playing a board game, baking something, or watching a movie in bed.
Just as long as you're together.
He likes to match his outfits to yours.
On the red carpet, but also just in daily life.
He's not a jealous person because he trusts you so much and he knows you'll never do anything to hurt him.
So he loves showing you off.
He's always weird about sharing his problems because of who he is; he feels like other people have it so much worse and he should just be grateful and not complain.
So he just acts like everything is fine, even when its not.
And of course, you know him better than anyone, so you know when something is bothering him.
It can take a while to coax it out, but eventually, he'll be honest and you can help him work through it.
He feels like you always know the right thing to say. He loves that about you.
You're more "online" than he is and you like to see what people say about him. His fans are so hilarious and creative. He likes it when you read funny tweets about him. He can see all the good stuff posted about him without having to sift through the hate; you're his own personal filter.
You get him into shitty reality TV.
He doesn't see the appeal at first, but after a few episodes, he's picking sides and needing to know what happens on Real Housewives of New Jersey.
Speaking of TV, he's very good at guessing the Masked Singers.
Like he gets it right almost every time.
Sometimes when you're sad, he'll do Pennywise's dance from It to make you laugh.
It never gets old.
He has a hundred notes in his phone with random things you've said. It's usually just a song or snack you mentioned in passing and he wants to remember it for later investigation.
You both start to use the same slang, phrases and references. You're literally the same person.
And sometimes no one else gets your references but you and Timmy. So one of you will say something and you'll both just die laughing while the rest of the room looks at you like wtf..
He's very good at taking Instagram photos and he loves to gas you up.
"Oooohh damn, you're so hot. Yes, do that! That's my (girl/guy)!"
The whole time he's looking at the phone and giving you the thumbs up like a proud mom videoing her child's dance recital.
He likes to open your car door for you.
He can be forgetful when he's stressed out.
"Timmy, your phone is in your hand."
"Timothee, your sunglasses are on your head."
No matter where you are, you like to watch the sunset together.
Sometimes you'll sneak a quote of something miniscule he said in a movie or smth into a normal conversation and he'll cringe.
Him: "Teresa is going to prison on RHONJ😧"
You: "I can do prison."
Him: "eufheufh why are you like this?"
You're his person🥺
Imagine: Being in a Secret Relationship With Timmy
You'd both agreed that you wanted to keep your relationship a secret for at least the first few months after you started dating. You wanted the privacy to be able to build a stable relationship without feeling like you're under a microscope and the whole world inserting their opinions.
But fans quickly began speculating, and after seeing just how many people were concered with your relationship status, you decided to keep it going for as long as you could. It was funny as hell, and you both loved trolling everyone.
Neither of you ever explicity confirmed or denied dating rumors.
He told his parents and sister that you guys were dating first, and then Zendaya (but only bc she's the only person who knows him well enough to pull the answer out of him) but other than that, you both only tell people you know you can 100% trust.
You both also say "we're friends" a lot because... you are.
Friends who just happen to be dating😏
"We're friends" becomes a meme.
While you're careful not to kiss in front of the paparazzi, you will occasionally hug or hold hands. But Timmy is a naturally touchy person with all his friends, so this doesn't necessarily mean anything.
Fans overanalyze EVERYTHING. Every touch, every look, every word. Funnily enough, the very thing you were trying to avoid when you first started dating is the thing that entertains you both now.
Occasionally, you'll post cheeky Instagram stories of you and Timmy doing debatably intimate things (his hand on your thigh as he drives or hugging at the airport) and the fans go FERAL.
Whenever you post photos of each other, Zendaya or Florence will always play along and comment something like, "Friend goals!!!🔥"
A literal WAR starts on Twitter. #TheyreFriends is trending. Your fans are in the trenches; the battle is bloody. You and Timothee are cuddling in bed, laughing at the whole thing. You still think it's crazy that people are so invested.
As time goes on, it gets more and more difficult to keep the charade up, and you both start getting restless. You want to be able to kiss in public or be able to go on romantic vacations without having to worry about who will see.
You both brainstorm cheeky ways to end it; the grand finale.
Across the world, your fans get an Instagram notification.
"(Y/N) has just posted!"
It's a series of wedding photos. The caption: "Upgraded to BEST friend😎"
Very Busy
Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x f!Reader. Summary: Desperate reader rides Timmy’s thigh while he’s working. Warnings: Smut, Dom!Timmy, thigh riding, language, teasing, begging. Word count: 635 A/N: Idk this one is mild as far as smut goes but pop off ig.
“Hi, Timmy,” you said, trying to keep your voice as innocent as possible.
“Hello, love,” he hummed. He didn’t look up from his desk, but he sounded pleasantly surprised. Usually, you never bothered him while he was working.
But today, you just couldn't help it.
Today, you needed him.
You crossed the room until you were right next to him, leaning against his desk. “Do you want to hang out with me?”
Finally, he looked up at you. Glanced down at the skirt he knew you had allowed to ride up on purpose. His unamused eyes met yours again before flicking back to the script he’d been analyzing for the past few hours. He could read you like a book; he knew what you wanted.
“Come here,” was all he said. You smirked, knowing exactly how he wanted you. You straddled his right leg, facing him. Your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. You began rocking your hips against him.
It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but you were already frustrated. You weren’t even close yet, and he wasn’t paying any attention to you at all. You stopped moving and huffed out a breath.
“Need you,” you murmured into his neck.
“Keep going.” That was all the attention you were afforded. His eyes remained focused on scanning the papers in front of him, highlighting all of his lines and occasionally writing notes in the margins.
“But Timmy…” you whined, pulling back. You sat upright as your hand drifted down to his cock. You were not surprised to find it rock solid beneath his pants. “Can’t you just take a teeny tiny break? Please?”
You knew begging was fruitless; Timothée was nothing if not devoted to his job. Still, you figured you’d try to sway him.
He smirked the tiniest bit; the only indication of your failure to persuade him. Your jaw clenched.
“I’m very busy, mon amour,” he replied. His tone was even, giving no indication that you were affecting him whatsoever. Perhaps that was the part that infuriated you the most. “I need to finish this. But if you’d rather wait until later-”
“No! No…” You pouted. “I can’t wait until later.”
His smirk deepend wickedly. “Then. Keep. Going.”
You huffed again as you returned your arms to their place around his neck and rested your head back down on his shoulder. Your skirt had ridden all the way up to your waist, the moisture that had already gathered between your legs now being contained by only a thin strip of underwear. You hoped you wouldn’t make a mess on his pants. Last time you did that, he wouldn’t let you cum for a week.
You began moving your hips again, the friction relieving some of your tension, but not enough.
“I don’t hear you, dear.”
You released the whimper you hadn’t realized was stuck in the back of your throat.
“Much better.”
You moaned into his neck again, a little louder this time. He loved hearing you express your pleasure.
You moved faster, really trying to focus this time. Your breathing quickened, your moans becoming more frequent. Timmy lazily dragged a hand up your spine and you gasped. Even the most basic of touches from him could make your toes curl.
Your heart (and hips) raced as you felt your orgasm building. “Pleasepleaseplease-”
“Go ahead, love,” he said gently; affectionately. It was enough to push you over the edge.
You dug your nails into his back and moaned as your orgasm crashed through you. Your entire body trembled. You could still feel him rubbing your back lovingly, his touch sending tingles up and down your spine.
“Good girl,” he murmured as the aftershocks subsided.
You whimpered again, placing a light kiss on his neck.